Tepid
by Annoying Little Twit
Summary: There was no such thing as happily ever after. 2x3 doubleshot, sequel to Cold.
1. Duo

There was no such thing as happily ever after. It was a fact Duo learned long ago, years before he first heard the lines read to him from a dusty old book Sister Helen had owned. The book spoke of beautiful maidens rescued from perilous situations, their saviours handsome and stronger than life. The women would fall in love and marry their rescuers, and they would live 'Happily Ever After.'

A fantasy that could not exist in reality.

So he hadn't expected a miracle when he drove Trowa back to the city, to the house he had not been able to make a home. The boxes had been unpacked the day after he first moved in, a place being found for the few possessions he owned in this world. Furniture had been bought and arranged, paint had been applied liberally to the walls, and the yard had been tackled and tamed to look something less like a jungle and more like the ones on either side of him.

But it was not home. Not without Trowa.

As he expected, the moment Trowa saw the dishes left in the sink he immediately moved to clean them and put them away, which led to him washing down the surfaces of the counters, mopping the floors, and taking out the trash to the bins outside. His demeanor for the rest of the evening was calm and collected, and Duo showed him the rest of the house, which room was set aside and untouched for Trowa. He left him to his own devices after that, retreating to his room and curling up in his blanket.

He was happy and terrified to be with Trowa again, even though it was all that had been on his mind since the day Trowa sent him away.

_That's not what happened,_ he reminded himself angrily. He had a year to get over this resentment, this pain, but it was harder when he was living with the source. The elated feeling of 'I have Trowa back!' was easy enough to understand; he had only been counting down the days until he gained his own freedom, and then talked himself into going and securing Trowa's. The 'Who will stop him from killing me if he loses his temper?' feeling was harder to ignore, harder to suppress and block from his conscious mind. It wasn't fair; he could defend himself, and he was here to help Trowa not fall prey to those urges anymore. But things were easier said than done.

There ain't no happily ever after, remember?

He hadn't expected Trowa to come to bed with him, not after so many months apart, so when he fell asleep alone and woke up the same way, he wasn't disappointed or resentful. It took three weeks before the air between them wasn't thick with tension, three weeks before Duo finally snapped and screamed his frustration with Trowa, his pain and anger releasing on the tide of a sharp tongue.

"Why did you make me leave?!" he screamed, his hand throbbing in time with his racing heart. There was a slight dent in the table from where his fist had connected, the flesh reddening and swelling the longer he ignored it. Trowa, to his credit, just sat there silently as he raged, his expression never flickering from the neutral, bored air he had come to dinner with.

"All I wanted was to stay with you! And you pushed me away! Do you know how much that hurt me? How many times I wondered what I did wrong, what I had done to make you no longer want to see me?!"

"It wasn't about that," Trowa replied coolly, the icy words belaying his serene expression. "I hold no resentment or bitterness towards you."

"Then why, god damn it?!"

"Because you had a chance to get the hell out of that prison. I made sure you were going to take it."

Duo just stared at him, disbelief rising in his chest followed by a swell of fury.

"Do I mean so little to you?" Duo asked, his voice deathly quiet. It was a stark contrast to the torrent of emotions brewing inside of him. Trowa gave a small, self-deprecating smile.

"You are the only reason I held on so long. Don't belittle your worth. I have none to spare myself."

"Oh, Tro'," Duo murmured, stepping around the table to wrap his arms around the taller teen. "You're worth ten of me."

Trowa didn't reply, but he didn't push Duo away either. They shared a bed that night.

* * *

><p>"Would you get a job if you could right now?" Duo asked one day, draped across the sofa and watching Trowa working on… something. It had a lot of wires, and looked like a mere pile of wires, but it most likely wasn't as innocent as it seemed.<p>

Duo didn't ask though, figuring he could claim ignorance if worse came to worse.

Trowa merely shook his head, pulling one of the many wires tight and switching the wire strippers he held in his hand for the roll of electrical tape he had clutched between his teeth. He deftly wrapped the single exposed wire in a plastic coat of blue, before starting to group some of the other wires together and binding them as well. It looked complicated, orderly, and suspicious as all fuck, but Duo kept chanting to himself 'plausible deniability, plausible deniability.' For all he knew, Trowa could be making a very blue, eccentric representation of a tree without leaves. Maybe. If he stretched his imagination enough.

Oh, who was he kidding?

"If I could, I'd work with kids," Duo said, as if Trowa hadn't tried to shoot down the conversation. "Troubled ones, not the snotty, privileged kids. I want the ones that the rest of the world's written off as a lost cause, the ones not expected to make it anywhere in life."

They both fell silent after that, the thought shared between them not needing to be repeated aloud. There would be no chance for Duo to ever have the opportunity. They wouldn't let a former terrorist or convicted criminal near any children who could be heading down those same roads. 'No need to encourage them' would be the general thought for anyone else who heard.

They remained in silence the rest of the evening.

* * *

><p>Duo wasn't ashamed of running. It was something he was known for (and damn good at too) and not afraid to use to his advantage. Even if it meant running from his irate housemate. Who had decked him in the face and possibly broken his nose. He hadn't stopped to patch it up, or to stem the bleeding.<p>

No, he had wasted no time in fleeing to the attic space, curled up in a ball, and had no plans on leaving there any time soon.

It wasn't like it had been unexpected; Trowa had threatened to hurt him several times since they'd met, but only once before had a punch been thrown and met its intended target. That one other time had been a ruse though, a means to pass along information that they desperately needed while Trowa was hiding among the enemy ranks.

This time… there was no noble cause. It was fully intended to cause pain. It was what Trowa had wanted as the end result.

That thought hurt more than the injury itself.

It was quite some time before Duo felt calm enough to slide out of the attic, change his ruined clothes, assess his injury (snapped, will need to be reset soon), and decide what he wanted to do next. He should seek out Trowa, but he wasn't confident that Trowa wanted to see _him_ yet.

That never stopped Duo from doing what he felt like, and so with trepidation churning in his gut, he sought out the other man.


	2. Trowa

His knuckles burned, hours after he had thrown the punch that he hadn't meant to throw. He didn't even know what he had done until Duo had already fled, leaving him standing alone in the bathroom. He couldn't even remember what _started_ the fight, or what it was about.

All Trowa was certain of was that he seriously fucked up.

He took an extra three minutes in the restroom to empty the contents of his stomach, wash his face and hands, and head to the bedroom to put on his clothes. He gathered all the laundry, put it in the wash, made the bed, straightened the books on his end table, dusted the empty surface of Duo's end table, washed the single window above their bed, wiped down the rest of the furniture, and then closed the bedroom door while he made his way to the kitchen.

It took three hours before he couldn't find anything else to clean. The dishes were done, the laundry folded and put away, the rooms were all spotless, the smell of lemon cleaner choking his nose, and he still felt wrong, still felt dirty. He curled into himself, sinking to the floor, his painful, raw hands burying into sweat-soaked hair. Rocking gently back and forth, he tried to ignore the feeling of dirt and sweat crawling along his skin, tormenting his senses. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pushed himself to his feet, unsteadily making his way to the bathroom and turning on the water as hot as it could go. He sat in the bottom of the shower, curled back up in a ball, and time didn't matter anymore.

That was where Duo found him, the water having long turned to ice.

"Shit!"

He ignored the sound of Duo's panic, barely noticing as the stream of water stopped falling over him and the pipes fell silent. He could barely feel the towel Duo wrapped around him, or the hands that were lifting him up, leaning him against a body that felt far too warm. He just stared blankly ahead, even as his body started to shake from the change in temperature, as blankets were cocooned around him and Duo pressed into his side, wrapping him in his arms.

"Oh God, I should have come sooner. I'm sorry, Tro', I'm so fuckin' sorry." Trowa didn't reply. He didn't say it wasn't Duo's fault – it wasn't, Duo did nothing wrong here – or that there was nothing to apologize for. He didn't tell Duo how sorry he was, how he didn't mean to hit him. How he didn't want to hurt Duo, and why did he give so much of himself trying to fix Trowa? Why did Duo never give up on him, when there was no way that Trowa would ever be able to get beyond this?

He just closed his eyes, shaking, as Duo whispered comforts and apologies to him.

* * *

><p>"Hold still, damn it," Duo growled, slapping at Trowa's hand and reaching for his neck again. Trowa obediently dropped his hands again, trying to not reach up and help Duo with the plain black neck tie. Trowa had another court date today, and Trowa felt that Duo was more nervous about it than he was himself.<p>

"Ties are dumb," Duo muttered under his breath, yanking the piece of fabric sharply. Trowa bent with the pressure, giving up on any ideas of calming the man's nerves.

"It's just a standard court hearing, nothing important," Trowa pointed out.

He wasn't sure if Duo had choked him with the tie on accident or purpose. It didn't really matter, if he thought about it.

He stayed silent for the ride over, and held his tongue as he stood in front of the judge. The man was in his early fifties, his hair a healthy mixture of grey and brown, and sporting a neatly kept goatee around thin, pale lips. Trowa kept his gaze fixed on the man's mouth as he spoke, his nerves fading to the background as he tuned everything else out.

"…crimes against the accused include resisting arrest, illegal possession of a firearm, grand theft auto, fifteen counts of assault with the intent to kill, seven counts of assault against a police officer, four counts of manslaughter, one count of murder in the second degree, three counts of murder in the first degree…"

Trowa didn't flinch, didn't wince, didn't feel anything as the sounds washed over him in waves. He didn't need to hear what his charges had been, he remembered them every day as he woke up, dressed, ate his meals, wandered the two-story home looking for something to occupy his attention, and prepared for bed. The faces of each person he aimed his weapon at remained in his mind, visiting him in his sleep and reminding him of what he had done.

"…sentenced to life in prison with no parole, and sentencing was reversed in light of the Victims of Child Warfare Act. The parameters were within the range of the accused's background, and his sentence was changed to suit the program…"

The 'Victims of Child Warfare Act," or VCWA, was the brainchild of Quatre and Commander Une, after Duo had been arrested and was being sentenced. Unlike Trowa, Duo had used his phone call to reach Quatre, who had wasted no time in stopping Duo from sharing a cell with him. It was after the program was created and in use that Trowa had been found. No one had known he had spent eighteen months in a prison and had planned on spending much, much longer than that there.

Quatre had been furious at him for not calling him. Trowa bluntly told him that it had been pointless, for he had known exactly what he was doing and what the consequences were. Trowa had even pled guilty to all charges. Quatre slapped him at that point, and it was still a sore spot between the two of them.

"…progressing well in rehabilitation. He has exhibited fewer outbursts of violence over the past two years, and has been able to verbalize his emotions instead of misdirecting them onto his surroundings. Therapy has been largely successful, and Trowa has been actively participating in both his private sessions as well as group sessions held twice a month with other members of the community…"

Therapy, something that living out in the middle of nowhere had allowed him to be exempt from. But living a ten minute drive from a clinic had made it mandatory, and Trowa wasn't sure if he hated the psychologist, or if it was the other way around. He had a fairly solid suspicion that the psychologist the court assigned to him wanted to bury him six feet under just from sheer frustration. They were both aware that what Trowa shared with her was pure bullshit, so the 'largely successful' made him wonder exactly what she was writing in his file. And group therapy was a game to him. So far, he had made each member break down in tears at least once from a story he made up off the top of his head. He was sure the group therapist was starting to catch on to him, though, so he had to try something else next time.

"…While he still is unable to tolerate long periods outside of the residence he currently resides, he has spent up to an hour at unpopulated city parks near the residence. Duo Maxwell, who had resided with Trowa and their caretaker, Quatre Winner, has been granted custody of Trowa and reports steady and positive progress in his every day habits…"

It had rankled Trowa at first to have Duo reporting his every action, but he understood that it was either Duo share the details or Trowa would have to go back to the cabin with Quatre. It was something he had learned to put up with, though Duo was quite willing to turn a blind eye to some of Trowa's more… interesting past times. Especially the ones that benefited the other teen, like the power hub that reduced the amount of electric usage their meter registered, with the bonus of having a more efficient power flow in their house.

"…Trowa's obsessive compulsive tendencies have not lessened, but Trowa has less violent outbursts when an attack is triggered than compared to past incidents. Offers to obtain his General Education Diploma has been rejected, though he has agreed to participate in several classes at the local community center as part of his therapy treatment…"

That had been an interesting turn of events, one that had Trowa and Duo at each other's throats, yelling and cursing, followed by fucking. Every one of their arguments tended to end with them in bed and Duo inside of him. If he was honest with himself, Trowa instigated arguments intentionally to get Duo angry enough to let go of his perfect control and give Trowa what he wanted.

"…Preventer Officer Heero Yuy and Preventer Officer Chang Wufei have given their consent to accompany Trowa to these classes in the event that Trowa reacts poorly while around citizens. The instructor of the class Trowa is scheduled to attend next month has been informed and is aware of the situation and has consented to having him and an officer be a part of the lesson…"

It was somewhat amusing to Trowa, needing to jump so through so many hoops to attend a class he didn't even want to participate in. But, as both Duo and Quatre had reminded him, he needed to appear interested in returning to society, not remaining a 'reclusive, stuck up bastard,' as Duo so aptly labeled it. It was all part of playing the game, even if it was only for Duo's benefit.

His thoughts had him distracted enough to miss what happened after, but he felt a gentle hand under his elbow and he followed the movement to rise to his feet, letting the hand lead him from the courtroom and down the aisle. He was being seated in Duo's car before he registered what was going on.

The ride back to the house was silent, and though Trowa felt comfortable enough in it, Duo couldn't stop fidgeting. He ignored it though until they were safely behind the front door. Trowa whirled around, grabbing Duo and pushing him up against the door and placing his lips firmly over the unprepared man's. He felt hands come up to grasp him – probably meant to throw him off at first – and Duo held on to his shirt for a few beats before wrapping his arms around him and pulling Trowa closer, Duo tilting his head to make the angle and kiss more comfortable.

"Never doubt," Trowa breathed, his voice rough, "how much I need you."

He knew Duo didn't understand, that Duo wasn't following his train of thought or connecting his actions, but it didn't matter. He let Duo take control, coaxing him to their bedroom and shedding the damnable suit. He didn't resist as Duo moved over him, his hands and mouth drawing sounds from Trowa that he once swore he would never let another hear from him. He didn't fight back as Duo worked him open, fingers wrapped around him and buried inside of him, driving him into a heated frenzy that only Duo ever managed. He wrapped his legs willingly around Duo's waist as he pushed into Trowa's pliant body, an act that Trowa never knew could be pleasurable until Duo showed him otherwise. He let Duo bring him to the peak of pleasure, his release spilling over Duo's hand and on Trowa's stomach, while he was filled with Duo's own. Duo pulled out of him, using one of the wipes Trowa kept in the night stand to clean the two of them off before the mess could upset Trowa.

"I always need you," Duo said later, as he held Trowa close to him. "Never forget that. You're my world, Trowa. You're the reason I even bother to try."

Trowa hummed low in his throat, lacing his fingers with his lover's. Trowa couldn't have said it better himself.


End file.
